Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“What are you two doing?” He roots around in the basket on top of the fridge. Plucks a bag of chips out and tears it open, popping one into his mouth.
“Dallas was hungry.”
He nods. “Y’all mind if I have company?”
Dallas’s fork stops halfway to his mouth. “What kind of company?”
“Girls next door.”
Dallas groans. “Yes, I mind.” Sets the container of pasta down. “I mind a lot. I want to get to sleep early. Wasn’t plannin’ on listenin’ to them fake laughin’ at your dipshit jokes all night.”
“Neighbor girls?”
He puts the top back on the tortellini. “Yes, neighbor girls. They’re like flies on shit, always buzzin’ around.”
“Well, it’s not like the two of you are going to entertain me. And besides, they’re right next door—I don’t even have to give them a ride over.”
How convenient.
Drake studies me.
His brother.
Scrunches up his face as he does it. “It’s weird that the two of you are hanging out,” he announces. “Considering you can’t stand each other.”
“Why would you say we can’t stand each other?” I ask. “Dallas is awesome.”
Both of them laugh.
“You’re so full of shit.” Drake stuffs a handful of chips in his mouth.
“Of course we like each other,” Dallas says. “Look at us, gettin’ along perfectly fine.”
“Is that what you keep tellin’ yourselves?”
Dallas nods. “Yup.”
“Well. I’m going back upstairs. Holler when the girls get here.”
He tips his head before he walks out of the room, a stereotypical Southern salutation I find charming and cute.
“Over my dead body am I gonna let him know when those cleat chasers get here…” Dallas mutters.
I cross my arms, legs dangling over the counter. “He brings up a good point. If we can’t convince your brother we like each other, how are we going to convince anyone else?”
“Because people believe what they want to believe because that’s what we tell them to believe.”
Huh? Come again? “Did that make sense?” I add the words up in my brain, even counting on my fingers like it was a math problem. “Eh?”
“It made sense, trust me.”
“Well, your brother isn’t wrong. We don’t have the chemistry to pull this off.”
Dallas looks insulted. “Don’t have the chemistry to pull it off?” he repeats. “Since when don’t I have chemistry?”
“I said we don’t have chemistry. I’m talking about the sexual kind—we get along okay, but it’s not like I want to bone you.”
His jaw drops. “You don’t want to bone me?”
“Oh, please—not every girl wants to roll around in your sheets. Give me a break.” I snort so loud his eyes get wide. “You already knew that.”
Or not.
“Maybe we should practice faking it.”
“Faking what?”
“I just told you—chemistry. Don’t you think we should at least look like we’re into each other? A little?”
Dallas regards me, shifting on his heels, and for a brief moment, I wonder if I’ve made him uncomfortable or said something confusing, like I’ve spoken in another language he doesn’t understand.
He can dish the truth out, but he can’t take it.
“Yeah,” he says in that lazy Southern drawl. “We should at least look like we’re into each other.”
“Good.” I hop down off the counter. Now is as good a time as any to start doling out the little lessons I want to teach him—like emotional awareness and subtlety, beginning with the fact that he doesn’t have to blurt out everything in his brain.
“Let’s get started.”
thirteen
dallas
“Honesty is the key to a solid relationship. If you can fake the honesty, you’ve got it made.”
– Eli Cohen
Ryann doesn’t want to bone me.
Ryann doesn’t want to bone me?
Why does this grate on me every time it comes up?
I’ve never had a girl use that word before to describe sex, but nothing about Ryann Winters surprises me anymore.
“Don’t you think we should at least look like we’re into each other? A little?”
Jesus. Every time this girl is within ten feet of me, her words make my dick and my ego shrink twenty sizes. It’s the opposite of the Grinch—instead of my heart, it’s my cock that should be growing.
“How are we supposed to practice?”
Seriously, I’m curious. How are we gonna do that?
I at least don’t mind looking at her nice tits and perfect round ass and the cute way she gets irritated. Or the way she’s constantly rolling her eyes as if she cannot fucking stand me. Doesn’t she know if she keeps doing that, her eyes will get stuck in the back of her head? Least that’s what my mama always said.
“I don’t know.” She thinks about it. “Try hugging me. Let’s see how that goes.”
“Huggin’ you? What good’ll that do?”
She holds her arms out wide. “Just hug me and quit arguing.”
I walk into her embrace, have to lean down because she may be tall, but she’s not nearly as tall as I am—most people aren’t, except for my brother Duke, who I can look dead in the eye.